


the first cut is the deepest

by duckgirlie



Category: Smith (US TV)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:58:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckgirlie/pseuds/duckgirlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff's first taste of Tom is blood.</p><p>It sets a precedent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the first cut is the deepest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cthonical (Nellie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellie/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Thanks to [redacted] for betaing

When Tom was in prison, Jeff visited him once.

He put in green contacts and brushed darker colour into his hair, and slid a fake ID across the desk to gain entry, signing the book as “James Stevens” and identified himself as as lawyer for the family who just needs to “clear some things up”.

Across the table, anyone else would think Tom was calm, but Jeff could see the minute shake in his fingers when he lit a cigarette.

They talked about various imaginary legal things. Mostly nonsense with a few small but important details coded into the chatter. By the time the conversation was over, Jeff had the details for two bank accounts and an address.

He was just shifting all his papers back into the briefcase when Tom leaned across the table, the strain starting to show in the corners of his eyes.

“Have you heard from Annie?”

Jeff’s hands tightened on the paper. “What, are you expecting her to call and apologise?”

“She might. She’s not as bad as you think she is.”

All the papers tidied away, Jeff stood to leave. “She’s exactly as bad as I think she is.”

It was wasted breath. They’d had this conversation before. They’ll have it again, unless Annie disappears for good, and maybe even then.

\- - - - -

Jeff ditched the contacts before he even made it out of the parking lot, and doused his eyes liberally with drops to get rid of the itch. He stopped at a 7-11 to get rid of his tie in one of the garbage cans, and ducked into a Burger King another few miles down the road to run his head under the tap until it was back close enough to his natural colour. He pulled a hat low on his head to cover the newly blond hair until he was another few miles and a different car down the road.

By nightfall, he was at the address Tom had directed him towards, a Glock carefully tucked into the back of his jeans.

\- - - - -

The first taste Jeff got of Tom was blood.

Years ago, before Bobby and Annie and prison, Jeff was the local contact for a job some of Tom’s friends were running out of Chicago. Something went wrong and Jeff ended up dragging Tom through six different buildings in an attempt to lose a tail.

It wasn’t until hours later, when Jeff was washing the dirt off his arms, that he realised he wasn’t hurt. That the taste of blood in the back of his throat wasn’t his own.

\- - - - -

Less than a year later, Tom introduced Jeff to Bobby. Bobby had danger and money rolling off him in waves, and Jeff had never been the smartest boy in class.

So he took some jobs, made and blew some money, and worked his way from a motel to Tom’s couch to Tom’s spare room.

One night, they hit up a club in The Valley. Every second word out of Tom’s mouth was about how he’d run a better club, and the rest were complaining there weren’t enough hot girls around. Jeff ignored most of it — he’d heard it all before — and downed shot after shot of Johnnie Walker and waited for the girls to come to him.

He didn’t have to wait long. Five girls in sky-high heels and tiny skirts came into the club and headed straight for the bar. He was carefully scoping them out in the mirrored wall when Tom slid into the seat beside him.

“Which one d’ya fancy then?” he whispered.

Jeff gave the girls another once-over. They’re all good-looking enough. He shrugged.

“I bet I can pull the redhead.” said Tom.

Jeff snorted. The girls were all pretty, but the redhead was a knock-out, and she and all of her friends knew it. Of course Tom would pick her.

He shrugged again. Let Tom work hard to get the redhead, he’d just wait and see which girl showed an interest. He wasn’t willing to put in any more work than that.

Tom hung back a few minutes and waited until the redhead had turned down three guys who offered to buy her drinks, before he finally made a move. Jeff didn’t know what he said precisely — the noise in the club was far too loud for that — but he had seen Tom do this enough times to figure out the gist.

Whatever it was, it worked. She turned her head towards him, breaking away from the rest of her friends, and let him order her a drink. The rest of her friends exchanged glances, rolled their eyes and ordered their own drinks. Jeff waited until one of the other girls was standing next to him at the bar, and offered to buy her a new drink.

Tom and the redhead had already left by the time Jeff and his girl — Monica — left. Her hands were already making their way under his clothes by the time they made it out to the street, so he flagged a cab down and guided her inside.

He gave the cabbie directions, warned him which streets to avoid, and pressed Monica into the seats, one hand on her waist and the other tangled in her hair Her mouth was warm and inviting, and she spread her knees easily when he moved to slide his hand up her skirt.

Whatever cab Tom and the redhead had taken must have hit some bad traffic, because the house was dark when they pulled up outside. Jeff threw a few crumpled notes at the cab driver and grabbed Monica’s hand, pulling her inside.

He didn’t turn any lights on, but he pressed her up against every wall between the front door and his bedroom before pushing her down onto the bed and crawling on top of her. He barely had her bra off when he heard the front door open again, and Tom and the redhead coming inside. They made it to Tom’s bedroom much faster, and the moaning started almost immediately.

Jeff pulled Monica’s shirt off and pressed his face into her breasts, pulled her skirt down and slid his hands up her thighs, grinning at the low-pitched moans he was squeezing out of her. From the next room, he could head the sound of Tom’s headboard knocking against the wall competing with high-pitched squeals.

\- - - - -

Jeff hated Annie from the moment he met her. That wasn’t a secret.

Bobby had been so proud of his new find, showing her off to the entire team and telling everyone how she was the best at what she did. Annie looked them all over carefully and went to stand next to Tom, letting their arms brush as she leaned against the car.

After the job, she showed up at the apartment.

“My flight isn't until tomorrow, and I don’t have a place in the city, so...”

Tom didn’t even look at Jeff before ushering her inside.

\- - - - -

Jeff got shot in the thigh on a job out of Austin. A through-and-through, no major damage, but Tom still cancelled all their jobs for the next four months. Jeff became antsy with nothing to do, started finding trouble (or letting trouble find him). Eventually, Tom had to drag him away from an altercation with Mickey DiGuardo and Freddie Pak, ditched him back at the apartment and disappeared for three days.

When he came back, he sat down next to Jeff on the couch and stole one of his cigarettes.

“If you’re done acting like a total fucking dickhead, Annie’s got a job.”

Jeff didn’t want any part of any job that Annie could put together. But he was about three days away from doing something _monumentally stupid_ if he didn’t get a distraction soon, so he nodded.

“It’s a robbery.”

\- - - - -

Jeff wasn’t there on the day. It was supposed to be quick-in, quick-out, he would have just slowed them down. The whole thing should have taken ten minutes total, but instead he got a text message from Annie telling him to destroy everything, and had to call in six favors to try and get the sentence shortened..

The first time he saw her afterwards, on Bobby’s art job, he just tried his best to ignore her and wondered what the fuck Tom thought he was doing.

\- - - - -

The bullets were still flying, but Jeff's attention had narrowed down to the man at his feet. The dark stain across Tom's abdomen was growing, and Jeff dropped to his knees and yanked his shirt apart, sliding his hands over the bloody skin until he found the wound.

“I swear to god man, if you die on me, I will rip your face off.” Jeff pleaded desperately.

Tom couldn't reply. The colour from his face was draining rapidly, and Jeff could feel the clamminess of his skin as he ran his free hand over his forehead and slid it into his hair.

“Seriously. My dad will never forgive me if I get you killed. You know he likes you more anyway. They all do, my whole family. And I really don't want to have to sit through your funeral knowing they're all thinking that it should have been me.”

The bullets kept firing, and he kept his hand pressed tight against Tom's stomach. He could feel the blood trickling out between his fingers, feel every part of Tom tensing as he gasped for air and his whole body trembled as his body went into shock. He lost track of what he was saying as he kept his entire body pressed against Tom's, shielding him from the bullets and debris, his face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Finally, the bullets stopped.

\- - - - -

Jeff wasn't there when Tom woke up. He knew Tom did wake up, because Annie and Bobby both texted him to let him know, but Jeff was in Australia, on a beach, thinking about nothing.

Three months later, he found himself back in LA.

Bobby had another job, and Jeff technically owed Bobby for bailing out of the last job and refusing to make contact for months. Extenuating circumstances apparently weren't something Bobby took into account.

Half the team was new. Tom wasn't back —obviously — and there was someone new running identities as well. Jeff really didn't want to think about what Tom and Annie would be off doing together, so he kept his head down and refused to engage with anything that wasn't vital to the job at hand.

When Bobby handed him his payout at the end, there was a business card stuck into the middle of the cash. The front had the details for a random cafe he'd never heard of, but the back had an address scrawled on it.

There was no note, no instructions. Just an address and the knowledge that Bobby understands more things than Jeff would like him too.

\- - - - -

Tom’s new place was smaller than most of the others he’s had. All on one level, there barely looked like enough room to move around inside.

It took Jeff three attempts before he managed to knock on the door. There was a thump from inside the house, and it took a minute for the door to finally creak open. Tom stared out at him for a moment before shuffling to the side to let him in.

The door barely had a chance to close before Tom had him up against the wall, his arm pressed against his neck.

Even when they’re both in fighting shape, Jeff is stronger than Tom. With Tom still recovering from his injuries, there was no way he could hope to keep Jeff there by force alone. It was a power play, and they both knew it.

Jeff stood still, calmed his breathing, and waited to see what Tom would do now he had his undivided attention.

Suddenly, Tom surged forward and crushed their lips together. Jeff reacted instantly, tensing his body and throwing Tom off. Tom hit the opposite wall and slid down, catching himself on the sideboard before he hit the ground. They stared at each other, panting, for a moment, before Jeff fell to his knees and wrapped his hand into the front of Tom’s shirt, pulling him in tight and biting his way back into his mouth.

Tom had a week’s worth of stubble that scraped against Jeff’s face. Jeff dragged his teeth against Tom’s face and neck and ripped his shirt open when he couldn’t be bothered trying the buttons. Tom’s chest was a mess of scars that Jeff knew the story of, and his hand caught on the tangle of still-shiny skin just below Tom’s ribs.

Tom’s hand wound tight into Jeff’s hair, and when Jeff squeezes down too tightly on the scar he pulled so hard that Jeff’s eyes watered but his hand never left the spot.

He attacked Tom’s belt and shoved his jeans out of the way. He barely managed to get his own past his hips before Tom pulled his hair back again, biting into his neck. He shoved his thigh between Tom’s legs and pinned one of his arms above his head, grinding their cocks together.

Tom’s teeth left a trail of bruises along Jeff’s collarbone until Jeff finally managed to wrench his head free from Tom’s grasp. He kissed Tom again, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

Jeff had the sharp taste of blood in his mouth when he came.

\- - - - -

Jeff woke up on the floor when Tom poked him sharply in the ribs.

“I’m pretty sure my doctor would kill me if he knew I was sleeping on the floor.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Jeff rolled over to let Tom drag himself to his feet. When he was finally upright, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

“Do you want a cup of coffee, or anything?”

Jeff sat up and dragged his hand through his hair. “Yeah, cool. Do you need a hand?”

“I think I can manage the kettle myself.”

Tom disappeared further into the apartment. Jeff was out the door so fast he left his shirt behind.

\- - - - -

Jeff crashed his truck into a streetlight less than four hours later.

\- - - - -

There were restraints around his wrists when he woke up. He pulled against them for a moment, but gave up. Most of his body still ached.

“I told them you were a suicide risk.” Tom gestured to the restraints. “Not that they took much convincing.”

Jeff didn’t say anything.

“If you didn’t want a coffee, you could have just said.”

“Where’s Annie?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Same place she was yesterday. I’m sure she’d be touched to hear you’re concerned though.”

“You sure she’ll be fine with you being here?”

“I haven’t seen Annie since I got out of the hospital. Then I spent the last few months fielding calls from your dad wondering where you were.”

Jeff rattled his restraints. “You going to get them to let me out of these?”

“Are you going to try and kill yourself again?”

“I didn’t try to kill myself.”

Tom sighed and dropped his head down for a moment. “Sure you didn’t.”

“So what, you’re just going to leave me here tied to a bed?”

“If the alternative is you driving your car off the road again, then yeah. I’m comfortable with that trade-off.”

“Did my dad put you up to this?”

“Your dad doesn’t know. I texted him that you’re alive, but that’s about it.”

They watched each other in silence for a few minutes.

“Well, visiting hours are over, and if you’re just going to sit there silent...”

Tom stood up and pulled his coat on. When he walked past the bed, Jeff reached out to grab at his hand. He only managed to brush his wrist with his fingers, but Tom stopped moving and let their hands stay brushed together.

“I’m sorry,” said Jeff, “and... thanks.”

Tom was silent for a moment. Then he brushed his thumb over the inside of Jeff’s wrist and took a step away from the bed.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt left me DROWNING IN FEELS so there wasn't nothing to be done but write something. I've always loved this show and this pairing, but I've never written them before because I had no idea if anyone even remembered it, let alone wanted to read it, but I should have just trusted in yuletide to bring it to me eventually. And then you run into the issue of trying to get a resolution out of two characters who DO NOT TALK ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS and avoid character bashing a character that your POV character REALLY DOESN'T LIKE. I don't know if I've succeeded in either of these endevours, but fingers crossed!
> 
> So yes ALL THE FEELINGS, so I hope you like reading it as much I as I liked discovering that somebody else cares.


End file.
